Campsite of the Year - Guy Fawkes River National Park, NSW

I have a strategy for climbs like this – from a distance our ascent ridge appears to have 5 distinct steps and so each becomes its own stage. Stage 1 takes us 45 minutes; rising 200m in elevation off the river, my backpack loaded with food for the next 3 days and enough water to camp high somewhere up there, ahead. Stage 2 takes 25 minutes; where possible, walking on the lee side of the ridge to shelter from the roaring, icy south-westerly wind while watching wedgetail eagles use it to take long, fast diagonal dives into the river valley below.  Stage 3 takes half an hour and suddenly the day's walk is over. 

As we crest the third 'step' of the climb, there is a small flat spot, a perfect campsite, sheltered from the worst of the wind with a small cliff as the front porch giving uninterrupted views east-north-east across Guy Fawkes River National Park. In the changing light it is mesmerising. In the distance is the Guy Fawkes River valley, the square top of Bees Nest Mountain, all the way to Lucifer's Thumb, the Fattening Paddock plateau, Chinamans Knob and Mistake Creek, Chaelundi Bluff.  Behind us, the river stretches 17km upstream to where it drops off the tableland country in a spectacular and intimidating series of waterfalls and gorges. When I feel brave enough to face the freezing wind, I can see the river valley turn north as it disappears into a steeply dissected jumble of hidden wildness.

So stages 4 & 5, it seems, will have to wait until tomorrow. 

We haven't done a "campsite of the year" post for a long time. It has not been because of a lack of suitable entries. However, this spot seems to make the idea moot. It was simply head and shoulders above everything we had experienced in the previous 6 months or more. It took some effort to reach. The climb was steep and our backpacks heavy with the amount of water we would need to sustain us overnight and into the next day. I sometimes wonder if the harder you work to reach a destination, the more beautiful it appears when you get there. If I had walked 100m from the carpark to a viewing platform, maybe I'd sound like the guy I met one day in Barrington Tops who said the view from Devils Hole Lookout was "just a bunch of trees"  as he stomped wearily back to his car.

But there is so much beauty and respite in a view of a bunch of trees. And, the cleansing, purging joy  this brings is gained not just by walking through forest or wilderness, but by camping in it. By sleeping with it.

"I must lie close to the living earth, encompassed by the stars - I am eager for a thousand natural pleasures; to dive down into cool water and gaze up through spaces of dim green or grey - to lie with my back against a hill and watch slow melting clouds, and see birds gliding down the wind - I am hungry for communion with these mates of mine." 

- John Le Gay Brereton, Australian poet and academic.

For this Campsite of the Year location we simply climbed high for a night, to find and enjoy the wonderful expansive views that the surrounding dry, open hills give. Despite only being at the top of Stage 3 of 5, I was more than happy to pull up stumps early and settle in to enjoy the incredible view. The small field binoculars I carry came in handy. I scoured the surrounding scene for points of interest. It was a beautiful afternoon with patchy cloud that was blown clear by 3pm. Sunset made the distant cliff-lines of Chinaman's Knob and Chaelundi Bluff glow an unearthly red. It was June, and although only half way through the year, it was difficult to imagine anything else pipping this spot in the Campsite of the Year ratings. The wilderness view was uninterrupted and equally brilliant in the flattering sunrise light that flooded the valley next morning. 

Rest

Sometimes we feel too spent from want of rest

We have no thought beyond. I know to-day,

When tired of bitter lips and dully delay

With faithless words, I cast mine eyes upon

The shadows of a distant mountain-crest,

And said, "That hill must hide within its breast

Some secret glen secluded from the sun."

Oh, mother Nature ! would that I could run

Outside to thee; and, like a wearied guest,

Half blind with lamps, and sick of feasting, lay

An aching head on thee. Then down the streams

The moon might swim, and I should feel her grace,

While soft winds blew the sorrows from my face

So quiet in the fellowship of dreams.

Sonnets, X, Rest from Leaves from Australian Forests – Poetical works of Henry Kendall;

1970 Published by Lloyd O'Neill Pty Ltd.

Having had a good overnight rest, knocking off stage 4 & 5 was straight forward but to get back to the car we had to walk back down 570m of elevation. The ridge we choose was open and enjoyable walking. We rested another night beside the river in the company of the pretty birds – a rose robin, a scarlet robin, a yellow robin, spotted pardalotes, azure kingfisher, crimson rosellas, Lewins honeyeater, sittellas, a golden whistler. On our final frosty morning, Caz opened the tent door to see a spotted tailed quoll hunting along the rocky slope behind our camp, not 50m away. In a steep gully and riverside cliff-line, we woke up three endangered brush-tailed rock wallabies as we walked in search of a ridge to climb out. Our route back is a long, off-track navigation. Once more, we climb – from 420m above sea level at the river to 1100m on the range. Another 680m up. 

On the ascent, I came up with an aphorism. I am thinking of making it into one of those poster-like meme's on the internet. I again broke the return climb into a series of stages – on stage 1 the mountain was crowded with my heavy breaths, sweat forming. On stage 2, I pushed through whip-like stands of scrub, the top of the climb still two hours away, then an hour. When I could finally see the end of the ascent I pushed up the last slope of the ridge - hungry, thirsty, puffing. Hurrying to get the climb over with, I tripped on a log. 

This came to me: Just because you can see the end does not mean you will reach it any quicker. 

I paused. Then, I took the remaining stages and steps by steadying my pace, making each step count, pausing to take in the magnificent wilderness view, that bunch of trees, just one more time.